


Stepping Up

by divagonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill and Fleur are just married when Kingsley's Patronus appears in the middle of their wedding reception. Bill and Fleur have to provide cover for their escape - but have more than they bargained for by giving them time to depart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepping Up

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** My submission to this week’s hpshipweeks on Tumblr. This was influenced by a line in Ladyknightley’s fic and we talked about Fleur’s wedding dress. With her permission, and her approval, this is my fic, based off her fic. - _DG_

* * *

“ _Scrimgour is dead. They are coming,_ ” a baritone voice boomed out from the lynx Patronus. 

So many witches stood frozen in paralysis by Shacklebolt’s announcement. The spell broke with a painful shriek. Congregants under the white tent started fleeing, causing chaos for those who were mired in the populace. Guests knocked one another over trying to escape the coming raid. Many were crying hysterically while trying to run. 

Others were screaming, begging for someone to help them disappear. 

One black cloaked shadow landed inside the tent and then rapid fired stunning spells at everyone they could get a wand on. Bill saw him first and took dead aim, trying to take him out. The other sparred his spell and they fell to dueling, each silently trying to curse the other. 

Bill felt the smaller frame of his fin – _wife, they wed not two hours ago_ – back him up, protecting his back while he was covering the exit of the three probable targets. The family decided years ago that Harry was worth fighting for. To many fatalities, too many families ripped apart, all at the hands of those who were mired in anachronistic traditions. They, not the Weasley family, were the ones harming the life they knew and loved. 

Being branded a Blood Traitor was a small price to live in peace, with liberty. 

But now…

Bill watched them disapparate among the chaos in the middle of the tent. He breathed a huge sigh of immediate relief. 

Four more black cloaked figures apparated into the tent, firing more spells at the remaining guests. Smoke filled the temporary pavilion and hid the ones who were screaming and crying. 

Bill fired off more spells, trying to drive out the interlopers when a shield went up in front of him. Two red stunners bounced off harmlessly. Ginny was firing at one of the dark cloaked figures blocking the exit, dueling as best as possible. He took two steps towards the exit when three more Deatheaters blocked the exits, securing the rest of the guests inside the tent. 

One of the hooded figures disarmed Ginny and pointed his wand right at her head. 

Bill threw up a _Protego_ to shield Ginny from an indiscriminately fired purple spell. Three spells bounced upwards, igniting the tarp of the tent. Smoke filled the marquis instantly. 

“Enough,” a painful posh voice echoed. “Drop your wands, now.” The owner of the voice extinguished the fire above his head. “I said drop your wands now.” The voice cracked on the _now_. 

Bill couldn’t see in the smoke and haze, losing sight of Ginny on the other side of the divide. He strained to see where the owner of the voice was standing. Sure enough, a mask, in resplendent velvet robes walked to the middle of the tent. In his hand was –

“Ginny!” Molly roared. “Let her go, now!” she screamed. 

The hand holding the wand thrust it up against the skin of her throat. “No, I won’t,” the posh voice from Wiltshire responded coldly. “Where is Harry Potter?” Ginny refused to answer except to utter a very vile epithet, including what he could do with the wand he put in a dark place. 

A few chuckles erupted, including from Bill and Fleur. 

The masked figure pointed it at Ginny, silently spelling her. Her eyes grew white and her mouth grew slack. 

“Where is Harry Potter?” 

“I don’t know,” Ginny spoke softly. 

“Tell the truth! Where is Harry Potter?” He yanked her head back, exposing her throat and making her stare into the ceiling. 

A commotion broke out behind Bill and Fleur. Arthur and Charlie were trying desperately to restrain Molly from pulling her wand on the figure holding her daughter. 

“Monsieur,” Fleur spoke up behind Bill. “Release her now. She’s not the one you want.” 

Bill turned to look at his wife and his jaw dropped to the ground. He wasn’t worthy to protect this gorgeous woman with anything than his life. How could she be more beautiful than she…. 

His mind drifted in the brain fog he was enveloped in. Somehow, he had to impress her. He had to shower her in rose petals and galleons, taking her to the ends of the earth. No, that wasn’t good enough for this exquisite goddess. 

His mind fell utterly blank from the veela magic overload. 

“Release her. I will take her place, monsieur. ‘e est a child, not one for fighting. I _am_ a lady, a woman, an adult suitable as a hostage.” Fleur took three demur steps forward and put her hands on Ginny. She was in a fog too, boggled at Fleur’s inherent Veela magic. 

The wand pointing at Ginny’s throat faltered. 

“Go to Bill, _soeur_ ,” She commanded in a quiet voice. “Go,” she commanded in a stronger voice. 

Ginny walked like she was drunk and made it to Bill. She stood there, refusing to move behind her oldest brother. “Stand behind Bill, Ginny. Bill, protect her.” 

Fleur saw them move and refused to shift her position until Ginny was protected. 

“Shield her, _mon amour_.” Bill cast a powerful _Protego_ , with three more following suite. 

Fleur took a small breath and stepped up to the towering man wearing a black velvet cloak and a mask covering his face. 

“I am the hostage you want. Isn’t that right, Monsieur Malfoy?” 

He stood silently in front of Fleur, unable to speak. 

“Draco,” she purred. “Drop your wand.” Tempered steel supported her words.

He lowered it further, but not from his hand. He struggled, fighting the effects of her magic. “He bade me to – “

“Qu’elle domage,” she thought before running a finger down the conjured mask. It disappeared in an instant and revealed the haggard face of Draco Malfoy. His eyes were pale and opaque, like he had been subject to _Imperio_. 

“Release the guests,” she whispered. She ran the lone digit down his cheek again.

“Everyone,” he spoke up. “Go now!”

The guests apparated out in droves, leaving the tent almost bereft. Only the remaining family and Deatheaters were still present.

“Leave, now, Malfoy. Take them with you.”

Two disappeared, but the remaining masked men stayed. “Draco, it’s your head if we – “

_Merde_ , Fleur felt the strain of the enormous exertion. Mere was stronger, more in control, but until the intruders were gone from her bloody wedding, she’d make them depart. She thought of Bill and the night he was attacked, protecting children from harm. Malfoy wasn’t leaving. No, he was raising his wand. 

Everything went black. 

* * *

“Ma chere, wake up.”

Fleur opened her eyes and looked up into the bright blue eyes of her husband. “Bill?” 

“ _Tu es magnifique, ma chere._ ” 

“What is it?” she asked in a heavy French accent. 

“You saved Ginny and the guests. But you changed and it took three Deatheaters stunning you to get you down. Do you remember any of it?” 

“No,” she replied. “I never remember when I lose my focus and change.” 

“You were most impressive,” he kissed her on the forehead. “You’re easily my equal in dueling. Easily, if not better. You were doing magic I’d only read about. It was tres magnifique,” he spoke in badly broken French. 

“Three?” 

“They were trying to kill you and failed, miserably. Mum and Charlie stood over you when you fell down, when they wanted to harm you.” 

“Where were you, my love?” 

Shame burned his scars, making them stand out against the high collar of his robes. “Protecting Aunt Muriel, Dad and Ginny,” he replied and looked away. “Mum was closer to you than I was, since there were three Deatheaters between me and you.” 

Fleur sat up and looked down at her now-ruined dress. “There’s blood and scorchmarks on my dress. It will never come out.” 

“You drew blood from 2 Deatheaters before they turned on you. You’re fortunate it’s not yours.” 

“Here, dear.” Molly leaned in. “A pepper up potion will help after your ordeal.” Molly looked withdrawn and rather pale. “I, well, when you feel better, I’ll try to get the stains out of your wedding dress.” 

“But this is Mandarin silk, made from flitterworm silk, imported from Beijing. I don’t know if the stains will come out.” 

“If I can get stains out of the twin’s clothing, I think I can get the stains out of your dress. Now drink up.” 

“My parents?” Fleur held the vial in her hands. 

“They departed with Gabrielle, and the twins covered their escape. They are safe. Fred and George ran back when they heard the first screams.” Molly held her hand out, and helped Fleur up from the floor. “They returned an hour ago. Your Mum is resting with Gabrielle and your father is keeping watch over them.” 

“Papa rouge?” 

“Arthur got roughed up a little. But they stopped when you stepped up.” Molly blushed. “I think they froze when you radiated your inherent magic.” Molly looked away. “Arthur went to send word to Ron. They escaped, as far as we know.” 

Fleur looked at her new family. Charlie was bruised on his face. The twins, whom she could easily to tell apart, were laughing. Blood stained their suit jackets but they seemed uninjured. 

“Ginny?” 

“She’s shaken up but otherwise unharmed.” Molly looked at her feet. “Thank you.” 

“Mum,” Bill stepped over. “What is it?” 

“Fleur changed. It surprised me. I nearly didn’t get there in time.” 

“That happens when I exert my magic too long or lose my focus. I lost my focus.” 

“You were ferocious,” Molly spoke in awe. “I misjudged you. You’re certainly not a fairy princess.” 

“You have nothing to fear with me,” Fleur smiled, “but I accept your compliment. Merci, Mama.” 

Molly turned on her oldest son. “Bill, did you know, about Fleur?” 

Bill scoffed. “Of course, Mum, would I have married her if we’ve not talked _at length_?”

“I’m just making sure that you can handle her.” Molly winked at her daughter in law. “Oh, I think I can, Mum. The question we have is, can she handle me?” 

Bill spun her around and gave her yet another kiss, to the wolf whistles from the remaining family in the tent. 

“Merci, mon cher!”


End file.
